Meet me on the other sideMeet me on the other sideI’ll see you on the other sideSee you on the other side

Honey now if I’m honestI still don’t know what love isAnother mirage folds into the haze of time recalledAnd now the floodgates cannot holdAll my sorrow all my rageA tear drop falls on every page

Meet me on the other sideMeet me on the other side

Maybe I oughta mentionWas never my intentionTo harm you or your kinAre you so scared to look withinThe ghosts are crawling on our skinWe may race and we may runWe’ll not undo what has been doneOr change the moment when it’s gone

Meet me on the other sideMeet me on the other sideI’ll see you on the other sideI’ll see you on the other side

I know it would be outrageousTo come on all courageousAnd offer you my handTo pull you up on to dry landWhen all I got is sinking sandThe trick ain’t worth the time it buysI’m sick of hearing my own liesAnd love’s a raven when it flies

Meet me on the other sideMeet me on the other sideI’ll see you on the other side

Honey now if I’m honestI still don’t know what love is

It Sure Is Dark Out Here … Somebody Save Me.Last week a coffee break with Stu and Nige saved me just a little bit. Reading, although not really connecting with Dani is saving me a little too. I miss you, girlie.

This weekend has been good, solid, back breaking but inspiring work with my young people. I’ve been silent since Wednesday on, because Wednesday night was gut wrenchingly difficult and I nearly wanted to throw in the towel. The difference between my ‘successful ministry’ (could there really be such a thing?) in the arts and my struggles in youth is primarily based around the desire for participation and ownership. All my pomo development ideas have to be thrown out the window when working with these very modern kids. Saturday, however, combined the arts and young people and was a riproaring success.

I am not winning enough battles, fighting the fight well enough, counting enough, or measuring enough to feel like anything is worthwhile at the moment. My dreams even, seem like feathers on slight whispers of wind, under gathering stormclouds.

Driving down the driveway tonight, to my little dark house, as lovely as she is, with my darkness inside me swelling and bursting out through teardrops.. I cannot even find heavy enough chords on my guitar to pour out my lament to any heavenly ears that are listening.

This isn’t really a spiritual post. It’s just a sad one. I need saving again, a companion on this faith path for a while. I’m reading Henri Nouwen’s The Inner Voice of Love and it wounds and heals me all at once. It speaks truth to me in deep places, not only because of similar experience, but because the Spirit of God is so deep in these places alongside me.

I wish though, at a time when I am pressing my young people strongly around their Holy Spirit theology, I was more secure in my own.

How desperate am I, for You, Spirit of God? How open and restless without your present Presence with me? How graciously you have given of Yourself to me, yet I ungratefully say, more.. It is not enough. Quicken Yourself to me, for I have need of you, to comfort me. I don’t wish for strength to continue, nor light for my path, simply to be comforted, oh Comforter.

Pray for me, that these words of Stu’s 131st Psalm become a present reality. Help me to remember my trust.

Psalm 131Lord I have given up my pride, I have placed my own opinions under your scrutiny and I realise how unknowing I really am.

I am not concerned now with matters that are too difficult for me to understand or with problems that I will never be able to solve.

These are your ocean, and I acknowledge I can only dip my toes in from time to time, but only you know how wide and deep it is.

So instead, I stop and reflect. I divorce myself from the concerns of the things around me. I stop. Like a small child fallen asleep in its mother’s arms.Safe, sound and cherished. My busy passions and annoyances are quiet now. Let me sleep.

I’m looking for…

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